Chapter 26 - The Schedule on the Refrigerator
I had promised myself I wouldn't visit Vermont simply because Adrian had begun going there. Then Dorothy called about the house's heating system.
“The contractor wants to replace a wall near Leo's bedroom,” she explained. “Adrian's property office sent a very expensive proposal. I don't know if anyone asked where Leo will sleep while they work.”
I was an architect. Or at least I had been, before divorce had reduced my professional confidence to a collection of remote drafting jobs. My first instinct was to look at the floor plan.
“Can you send the contractor's scope to the property manager?” I asked. “Ask for a phasing plan and a safe temporary bedroom. You shouldn't have to improvise that.”
Ten minutes later Dorothy apologized for calling me. “I know you're not responsible.”
“I'm glad you called. But the next person should be whoever is actually responsible.”
She laughed tiredly. “That would be a lovely change.”
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I forwarded a practical list to Adrian: sleeping arrangements, noise hours, dust barriers, alternate exit route. He responded by asking the contractor to meet with Dorothy and the child's caseworker.
I pinned my own prenatal appointment to my refrigerator afterward, beside a grocery list and a sketch of a tiny crib. It pleased me that one schedule in this story still belonged entirely to me.
